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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25688284">Virgil Whumptober Collection</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/beechoven/pseuds/beechoven'>beechoven</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Thunderbirds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Explosions, Hurt/Comfort, Scott Whump, Serious Injuries, Stitches, Unconsciousness, Virgil Whump, Whump, Whumptober 2019, hurt!Scott, hurt!virgil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:47:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,216</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25688284</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/beechoven/pseuds/beechoven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Is it in fact August 2020? yeah? so?? Whumptober every calendar month babeyy. These are from the Whumptober 2019 prompts list. I would lover to possible expand on some of them but they are just a fantastic writing exercise. Please enjoy all the whump from our boy Virgil &lt;3 poor boy give him a hug.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Shaky Hands</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey Virg you alright?” </p><p>He could hear distantly, but he couldn’t bring himself to focus on the voice. </p><p>“Yeah I’m-” </p><p>His own voice was close and quiet. His vision seemed to shift like sand with dark and bright patches, light coming in and out of focus. His hands were stained with blood and shaking. He felt a rising in the pit of his stomach like he was going to be sick. A hand clapped onto his back but did nothing to pull him out of his shocked state. He breathed deeply and slowly, the nausea crawling up his back, and a flash of heat in his face as Scott’s suddenly appeared in his field of vision.</p><p>“Virgil! What’s wrong?” He had been yelling for a while he realised. He looked up at his older brother and his eyes were glazed over and far away.</p><p>“I’m fine, I'm-I’m FAB- S-Scott,” He heaved in a deep breath once again, suddenly feeling desperately overheated.</p><p>“He’s going into shock.” He couldn’t even tell which brother had said it. </p><p>“You’re right” He nodded weakly as his voice cracked. He was fumbling at his collar to try and get some air but his fingers trembled too much to cooperate, and with an experimental clench he found he couldn’t even make a fist.</p><p>He felt himself being lifted from both sides, and with his feet barely touching the ground they made it back to Thunderbird 2. It did nothing to help his nausea, and in the back of his mind he thought quietly that at least if he threw up on one of his brothers it would be pretty funny.</p><p>He made it back and they laid him down in the ship’s medbay, he could feel the hands trying to push him down but he fought them and immediately was taking off his gear as fast as he could, breathing in deep heaving sighs, and keeping his eyes at one spot low on the ground to minimise the nausea. For a moment he was amazed at how fast he had managed to undo all the straps and buckles of his uniform, that was right before he realised Scott had done most of the work. He looked up and could see Scott was trying to say something.</p><p>“I can’t hear you.” He said, waving his hand dismissively. It was true. There was a loud thumping in his ear that had muted pretty much everything. Virgil knew how this went, he didn’t need to panic, he knew it was just his body doing the dumb shit that bodies do and that it would all be over in ten minutes. </p><p>He felt Scott’s hands on his shoulders squaring him up.<br/>
S i t   d o w n. He read on Scott’s lips. He said a bunch more words Virgil couldn’t interpret and then gave a thumbs up. </p><p>F A B ? He managed to catch at the end.</p><p>Virgil just nodded and lowered himself to the floor, leaning against the bed. He was sure it wasn’t exactly what Scott had wanted, but he needed to be as low to the ground as possible right now. Scott walked up toward the cockpit and after a few moments Virgil felt the floor shake as they took off. Immediately feeling more grounded, he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, patting the floor of the medbay fondly. “Good ship.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Explosion [S3E17]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>alternative to what happened in season 3 episode 17. Virgil has to hold the door shut with the bomb behind it in order to break apart the brick wall. Just let me have my nonsense scenarios in peace ok.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“There’s no other way.” </p><p>“Virgil don’t-”</p><p>“Detonate.” </p><p>The five seconds felt like forever, and his heart jumped into his mouth when there was a flash of white and a deafening roar that almost shattered his ear drums. The plate door that he was leaning against was flung off its hinges, smashing him into the brick wall.</p><p>When he woke up McCready was shaking him. His ears were ringing sharply, but he tried his best to follow her prompts, standing with the aid of the wall, and repeating some affirmations that he hoped came out sounding like “let’s move.” </p><p>McCready slung his arm over her shoulder and soldered him forward as the actual rescue followed close behind. They stumbled through the hole into the underground, and as he looked over in a daze he could see she was saying something directed at him, looking much calmer and softer in the face that usual, but her eyes were deep with concern. </p><p>As his hearing started to come back in, slowly, he could hear Parker’s voice quietly as he held out his arms as if to steady him. </p><p>“Easy does is my lad.” </p><p>
  <em>My lad?<em> He hadn’t called Virgil that since he was ten. Something was up for sure. Even so he found himself being steadied by the old driver and buckled into the back seat of fab 1.</em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>He turned his head to look back out and found that the world spun. A wave of nausea fell over him and he leaned forward to hold his head in his hands, the first thing he could feel after the adrenalin had started to wear off. He resolved instead to listen to what was going on outside. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“We were running out of time, i told him he was crazy but, on the other hand we would’ve been buried alive.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“So he stayed to hold the door closed?”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Yes”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Reckless fool. They’ll put me in the hospital for my grief, the lot of them.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“I certainly hope not, your ladyship.” McCreedy’s voice sounded warm. “You better get him to one in any case.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Quite.” The doors of Fab 1 opened again and Lady Penelope and Parker stepped inside. “London General please Parker.” Virgil tried to sit up straight and found himself woozy.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“That’s quite alright Virgil, as you were.” He relaxed somewhat. “Going for a record are we? I don’t believe you’ve seen all the hospitals in London have you? Scratch this one off the list.” </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“I’m fine Lady Penelope, just- drop me off at Thunnerbird Two would ya?” He said, his speech slurring the slightest bit. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“I have my reasons for fussing over you boys you know? Keep your hands where they are.” Virgil furrowed his brow and moved his hands down from his forehead to look at them. They were covered in his blood, suddenly he became aware of the deep head wound that was the source of his dizziness, and he winced in pain as if his body had only just now caught up. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Now what did I <em>just<em> say, honestly Virgil, it’s like talking to a brick wall.” She said lightly. </em></em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>“Hey I’ve talked to brick walls, I’m much nicer.” He said, still grimacing and holding his head. Lady Penelope laughed lightly, sounding relieved. He started to notice the drops of blood on the floor and seat, and that were also no doubt on the door and seat. </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>“Sorry about your carpet.” He said, finally managing to meet her eye. He found she was looking straight at him with deep sympathy and worry, a placid smile on her face that was trying to tell him everything was going to be ok, while her eyes told him she wasn’t sure.</em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>“Oh you’re being silly,” she said with a choked smile, turning away with a sniffle so Virgil couldn’t see her quickly wipe her eyes. </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>“Don’t worry Sir, I ‘ave her steam cleaned every Saturd’y” Said Parker from the driver seat. </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>It was stressful for Penny any time one of the boys was hurt. She knew they were always alright in the end but it was scary all the same, and endlessly frustrating the way they tried to stoically brush it off every time. They did take after their father in that way. Generally playful banter was the only way to match their energy and keep them calm, so she did just that. Still every year she lost no less than two nights of sleep on each brother. <em>Selfless bastards.<em></em></em></em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Delirium</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Explorer pod can you read me?” Distantly out of the busted radio of the pod, he could hear his brother’s voice.</p><p>“Scott? Virgil?” It was painful to hear John so desperate and afraid, but it was no use. They had tried responding but nothing was getting through. There was no hope now but to make their way out on foot.</p><p>He looked over to Scott, whose stoic frown gave little reassurance. He knew they were feeling the same way as they walked further from the radio and John’s stricken calls slowly faded out. </p><p>They had been out exploring a potential hazard in the area, a massive crevasse that had opened up abruptly, and began leaking thermogenic gas. Unable to take anything with a jet engine without igniting the place they had parked TB2 on the other side of the island and taken the pod over. The ground was so unstable that they had fallen in, but now with the gas surrounding them there was no chance they were going to start up the pod again for fear of the damage creating sparks.</p><p>Virgil warily eyes the tiny hairline crack in Scott’s helmet. Scott knew it was there. Virgil knew, Scott knew. Neither of them said anything. Panic and the threat of carbon monoxide poisoning were not worth stopping to chat about.</p><p>-</p><p>“Scotty, come on we gotta keep movin’.” Virgil said, exasperated. The world around him seemed the slightest bit stilted and he knew the poison was slowly getting in as his filtration systems ran out of aid. Scott was doing much worse.</p><p>“Hey, I’m your big brother, I can take care of you ya know?” He said, his words all leaning on each other like a house of cards. It was sweet but Virgil didn’t have the patience, he knew that he had to keep them heading for an opening while Scott was still conscious. He breathed in and gave a deep sigh to compose himself.</p><p>“Don’t make me carry you.” He said sternly enough that Scott didn’t seem to want to meet his eyes anymore. </p><p>“Okay.” He said weakly, and they trudged on again, stumbling through the dark, heaving for air while trying not to breathe.</p><p>Virgil saw light up ahead and ran forward to get a closer look. I was a way out, the path was clear, from there maybe they could call someone. But the running made him dizzy, his limbs suddenly felt weak and heavy, he made his way back to Scott.</p><p>“Scott.” He said, his voice crackling in the dark empty cave.</p><p>He saw finally the shape of his brother on the ground and stumbled over to him. “No no no no.” He said softly as a wave of clarity hit him in the face and sobered him for a moment. Scott’s helmet was off.</p><p>He lifted it to jam it back on his stupid fat head but Scott was pushing him away. “I can’t breathe in that thing.” He said stubbornly. </p><p>Virgil nearly shook with frustration. He just wanted his brother safe. He just wanted to get out. He just wanted to go home. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as a feeling of utter hopelessness passed over him, looking at his brother's face, that was pale and sickly. His eyes that were fluttering open and shut. His mouth, that was taking thin gasps for air. </p><p>“I’m getting you out of this.” He said aloud, to himself as much as to Scott. Feeling like his tired legs could give way at any second, he hoisted his brother onto his back and began taking heavy, determined steps into the light of the opening, over rocks and sinking dirt, and at one point practically crawling, he at last made it to the egress, where he laid Scott down with gritted teeth.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>kind of unfinished ik, some of these i'd like to add to someday so we'll see. thanks for reading :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Human Shield/Gunpoint</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I began writing human shield and then realised the way i interpreted the prompt kind of included gunpoint and i didn't want to have to write another and risk it coming out kind of the same. </p>
<p>I really enjoyed writing this chapter and I hope to add to it but I started to run out of steam and wanted it get onto the next prompt to keep it fresh.</p>
<p>pls enjoy if you don't just pretend you did ok</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I said don’t FUCKING move!” The assailant shouted. Scott was pulled away from his sly negotiations to find that the gun was no longer pointed at him, but at his little brother. Virgil was the oldest of his siblings, but now, as he saw him tense, with hands up and the barrel of a gun pressed to his temple, suddenly he was Scott's little brother. It made him panic, his stomach dropped. The softness in Virgil's eyes made him sick. He didn’t look scared, he looked sad. At least to scott. Those eyes stayed locked on him as the assailant slowly walked in closer.</p>
<p>“I’m <em>listening</em>.” Scott said slowly, raising his hands in caution.</p>
<p>He pressed the barrel harshly into Virgil’s head and he winced. </p>
<p>“Don’t” said Scott softly.</p>
<p>“You’ll do as I say.”</p>
<p>“Yes”<br/>“You’ll do as I say, or you’ll be scraping pretty boy’s brains off the floor you got it?” He said. There was agitation in his thick London voice, Scott silently prayed that his nerves wouldn’t affect his trigger finger.</p>
<p>Scott nodded, not taking his eyes off his brother for a minute.</p>
<p>“You’re gonna tell the gdf, you’ve got this handled, you’re gonna let my boys finish up their work, and you’re gonna face the wall with your hand beyond your head, while we go merrily on our way, got it?”</p>
<p>“Got it.” Scott said robotically. His eyes were glazing over, he felt frozen.</p>
<p>The masked goons started stacking crates of plutonium carelessly, making Scott wince. Suddenly through a fog of static, thunderbird Five, in a feat of record breaking bad timing, managed to get through to his radio past the 100 feet of concrete.</p>
<p> “...bird one… ...do you read me?...” </p>
<p>“What was that?” The assailant said, suddenly jumpy and wide-eyed. He pointed the gun toward Scott, and the right back to Virgil, now directly under his chin.</p>
<p>“It's my radio.” Scott said calmly, his heart beating faster than before. Virgil had looked away from him and was now laser-focused on a spot in the corner.</p>
<p>“Turn that shit off- wait, no.” Scott kept his hands raised. “Tell them everything is fine. Make it convincing.” He said, tightening the arm around his brother's neck for emphasis.</p>
<p>“This is Thunderbird One. Go ahead John.”</p>
<p>John’s voice came weakly through Scott’s radio. “Is everything alright down there? You’ve been down there a while, I can’t get any readings through the vault walls.”</p>
<p>“Everything’s fine Thunderbird Five, we encountered a gas leak that was the source of the tripped alarm. Patching it up now.” The static stretching for his response seemed to last forever.</p>
<p>“FAB Scott. See you topside.” Scott breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes for just a second.</p>
<p>The man holding Virgil gestured for his men to continue.</p>
<p>“Let him go.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, did you think you were in a position to bargain?” He said with a face full of mock disbelief. Scott closed his mouth. “Now we ain’t got but one gun to keep you here so you’re going to have to trust me when i say: you call for help, you move from <em>this spot</em> - your brother gets it. Ok?” As he said it he passed Virgil off to two of his minions who held him roughly as if he were already trying to escape. Scott followed them with his eyes and at that moment a dozen scenarios drove through his mind about grabbing the gun and forcing his way out of this situation, but he didn’t have a chance, not with that barrel still tracked on Virgil’s head. He blinked the thoughts away. He nodded defeatedly.</p>
<p>Rex put down a small surveillance unit in front of him on the floor. “Hands.” Said Rex. Scott tilted his head to the side. “<em>Hands</em>.” he said slowly. Scott put out his hands and his left was immediately clapped into cuffs and twisted behind his back, followed by his right. </p>
<p>Now chained to a piece of lead pipe he struggled up onto his knees to look as Virgil was pushed into the back of a truck, the last he saw of him - his wide brown eyes.</p>
<p>“<em>Virgil!</em>” </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Virgil let out a grunt as he was thrown to the floor. The other men filed in and took their seats in the back of the truck as they loaded in the last of the plutonium. He looked around and felt immediately uncomfortable and desperately outnumbered by the men now encircling him. He kept his hand in full view and his eyes on the man trailing him behind the barrel or a pistol.</p>
<p>They came forward and began to tear off his gear, all his equipment, his shoulder mount, his ammunition, everything. “Hey be careful with-” He was interrupted by a heavy blow to the face that had him sat back down, head spinning. He sat feeling naked in just his blue uniform and didn’t speak again.</p>
<p>One of them came up to him and bound his hands tightly behind his back. The one holding the gun stepped back and put it away. </p>
<p>The carriage was filled with self-congratulatory mumbles and cheers. It was dark except for the small amount of light that filteren in though the cab window. It stank of cigarette ash and stale oil. </p>
<p>Virgil made a point to keep quiet. He knew the protocol for situations like this. Cooperate. Don’t get yourself killed. He thought about his brother who had been left behind in the vault. In a way he was glad they had him as leverage on Scott - it meant he wasn’t in direct danger certainly, but he couldn’t guarantee Scott would have cooperated nearly as well had the gun been pointed at him instead. That boy has no self-preservation, or as Grandma would’ve said he was “hero-prone.”</p>
<p>After what he guessed was about an hour of driving, the truck slowed to a halt, sending Virgil onto him side on the ground with no way of bracing himself. He groaned. The back door rolled open and he squinted away from the light as he was lifted from the ground and hauled out onto the side of the road unceremoniously. He coughed and spat as his face hit the dirt. He turned just in time to see the truck pull away and speed off down the empty highway and disappear.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Stab Wound</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one is still a Virgil whump but i thew the prompt itself in Scott's direction because i wasn't really feeling it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Scott?” He saw his brother crumple to the floor with a groan.</p><p>Virgil ran over to him. He felt so stupid, he had just stood there, he had watched him pull the knife, there had been so many opportunities to do something, why hadn’t he done something?</p><p>The old scientist was stammering in shock, looking dismayed he stumbled back and dropped the bloodied blade as Vigil barreled toward him with wrath in his eyes. He wasn’t headed for the old man though. He knelt down beside his brother and gripped his shoulder tightly. </p><p>“Scotty!” He said frantically.</p><p>Scott looked up at him, wincing. “Is it bad?” Virgil’s voice was shaking. </p><p>“I’m fine Virg, shut off the machine.” Virgil gave him a hard look, but nodded. </p><p>“Keep pressure on the wound.” He said, his medic instincts kicking in. He grabbed Scott’s hand and pushed it firmly to the deep cut in his abdomen. Scott winced again. </p><p>“I’ll only be a second.” He stood quickly and staring down the cowering old man as he walked past - kicked the knife over the rails and down into the precipice of whirring, sparking machinery.</p><p>He stood before the machine, an electronic hive of bees, humming and thrashing with electricity and radiation. It was reaching critical saturation. The air was thick with a metallic scent that made him screw up his face. </p><p>“John, Scott is down. I need you to take me through this shutdown process, fast.” </p><p>“Override switch is on the panel to your left.” He spotted the switch and walked up to it. “You’ll need to hold down the override or the switch won’t release. The red button right next to it.”</p><p>“FAB.” He slammed his fist onto the red button and heaved the override down.  Nothing happened. The whirring only grew louder. The lights on the panel and in the underground chamber shut off and the only source was the purple-white light that came from the sparking glowing machine. He became dismayed, and looked back at Scott who was still clutching his side, blood starting to seep out from between his fingers.</p><p>“John nothing’s happening!” </p><p>“Then it’s as I feared, the machine is creating its own power source. Virgil, if this goes critical it’ll be nuclear catastrophe.” John said over the comms.</p><p>“I know, I know.”</p><p>“The only way to shut it down now is manually. You’ll need to go up there and disrupt the electron flow.” </p><p>“FAB” He immediately vaulted over the railing and clung onto an arm of the machine. The heat coming off it was intense, and here there wasn’t much his suit could do to filter the smell of burning plasma and nuclear fission. He climbed higher.<br/>“John!” </p><p>“Disconnect the clear tubing, they’re weakest at the base.”</p><p>The whole place was shaking. He walked carefully over a narrow beam to the place where the clear tubes connected to the core. Holding onto the core, he stood and stomped down on it with all his might, again and again. It wouldn’t budge. Sweat dripped down his neck.</p><p>“John, I’m running out of options here.” Static. “John?” He looked at his comms unit to find it was fried from the heat. He was alone. He looked back but he couldn’t see Scott through the shower of yellow sparks that were falling all around. The deafening humming of the machine filled all his senses. He was all alone. </p><p>Something caught his eye. Red and silver. It was the knife he had kicked over, sitting on a grate near the floor. He looked into the beam of energy that was moving steadily from the core to the plate. He got an idea. </p><p>He jumped down hastily, ignoring the crippling groundshock that reverberated through his legs. He grabbed the knife and stumbled up the maintenance side stairs as fast as he could. A blast of sparks accompanied a loud crack as he shielded his eyes from the light, clinging desperately to the railing as he rushed up to the pinnacle. He took a short breath in, and forced the knife into the exposed beam.</p><p>He was thrown back into the railing. A sound like a supernova accompanied the crack of sparks and rush of smoke as the machine short-circuited. </p><p>Virgil woke up and shook himself. Slumped against the railing, grasping his hand tightly. A feeling of disbelief came over him through the pain and nausea. Happiness, and then - “Scott.” He whipped his head around, only to find he still couldn't see through the smoke.</p><p>He clambered back down and over the railing, filled with a sudden adrenalin. He made it to the floor. He couldn’t see his brother. “Scotty!” He yelled.</p><p>“Here.” Came his brother’s voice weakly. Scott was propped up on the floor leaning against the control panel, looking pale. A thin trail of red leading back to where he has been stabbed.</p><p>“Come on.” Virgil said grimly. He took Scott's hand and lifted him up. Scott groaned in pain.<br/>“We’re gonna get you to thunderbird two alright, just stay with me.” </p><p>Finally, painfully, they made it to TB2. Virgil sat Scott down in the medibay and put on a temporary bandage, then he set the auto pilot to the nearest hospital.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Stitches</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some pretty gross stuff in this chapter. I don't describe any wounds in that much detail but if you don't like deep cuts this chapter probably isn't for you. </p><p>In this house, we love and support John, a kind brother and a robot of a man.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One slip was all it took. The fall wasn’t enough to hurt him. However on the way down his back had caught a nasty scratch. He fell to the floor in a sitting position and stayed very still, breath knocked out of him. </p><p>He tried to move ever so slightly and flinched hard as a hot sharp pain went up his back. Slowly, tenderly, he reached back to feel it, his fingertips came back red. Shit. He’d been cut on something on the way down, something that had torn clean through his suit. He looked up to see the silhouette of a jagged piece of iron, likely a beam that had twisted and snapped when the crane came down. </p><p>Virgil assessed his options. The cut didn’t come over the centre of his back, so not likely a spinal, good. He thought. That put it down to the severity of the muscle damage and factoring in blood-loss. After the initial shock passed and his head cleared, he decided his options were call for backup, or finish the mission and then get treated. </p><p>The medic in him screamed contingencies. If you can’t save yourself how are you supposed to save anyone else? </p><p>But he also knew International Rescue was full house at the moment. John was finally on break after putting it off for two weeks and Eos was covering for him because all the other siblings were on mission. That busy. </p><p>“Call John.” He said aloud to convince himself. You owe him that much. He nodded and tapped his communicator. “Tracy Island.” He said weakly into his radio. “Come in.” Nothing came back. He tried again. Still nothing. </p><p>After a long minute counting in his head, he decided to cut his losses. He had to finish the rescue one way or another. The crane had fallen, as far as he knew nobody was in imminent danger, just stuck. No surprises, just search and rescue. I can do this. </p><p>Going back to his controller, he opened the schematics for his exosuit and made some adjustments. He first turned up the sensitivity so that he would get the same output of movement for lower input, this meant he could move only a little and the hydraulics would move him the rest of the way. That would make getting back up a lot easier. Check.</p><p>Then he adjusted the frame size to fit someone significantly skinnier than him. He bit his lip as the panels bracing his back slowly pulled together, effectively squeezing his wound shut. It was right on his ribs, but not unbearable - like wearing a corset. And it was way better than bleeding out in a pile of scrap metal. He took a deep breath in, opened his eyes, and stood up.</p><p>-</p><p>Getting everyone out took less than half an hour. In the dark, nobody had noticed the red stain that was leaking down Virgil’s back, or questioned how pale he was, how he didn’t say much. </p><p>With everyone out he walked painfully slowly to thunderbird two. He patted her hull lovingly, reassuring himself he would be home soon.</p><p>A dilemma came when he realised he couldn't pilot her in his current state. That is to say, he couldn’t fit in the pilots chair while still sporting his exosuit. And although his aching ribs begged for him to take it off, he didn’t want to risk interfering with a wound he couldn't even see. His mind trained on getting home. </p><p>He switched on autopilot and set course for home. As the ship took off he carefully sat down cross legged on the floor, he shivered, feeling small in the big empty cockpit. He watched the clouds go by the windshield in the dark.</p><p>-</p><p>Alarms. Alarms going off. What? He had fallen asleep. Suddenly he remembered where he was, He stood up and groaned as red hot pain shot down his back, stinging like poison.</p><p>Thunderbird Two can’t land on autopilot shit shit shit. It was hovering over the landing bay. The fuel alarm was also blaring at him, and he dismissed it. How long had he been hovering there? He cursed to himself as he punched in the access code and initiated landing. </p><p>John’s voice came in through the intercom. “Is everything alright Thunderbird Two? Not your smoothest landing there.” His voice was light and smooth.</p><p>Shit. John. He had forgotten to call. He had been so focused on getting home he’d forgotten to even try the ship’s radio. He screwed up his face. This was going to be bad no matter how he put it. “John can you meet me in the hangar please.” He strained as TB2’s engines slowed to silence.</p><p>“Uh, ok?” He didn’t know how to tell him what had happened so he decided to let his injuries speak for themselves.</p><p>By the time he managed to get down to the tarmac John was already stepping out the door of the elevator. </p><p> </p><p>“Virgil?” John said, his face immediately growing lined with concern. Virgil walked very carefully down the ramp, clearly in pain. “What’s wrong, wha- why are you still wearing your exosuit?” He came up and laid a hand on his arm.</p><p>“It’s keeping my back together, let’s get to the medbay.”</p><p>“What?” he said, taking a look at Virgil’s back. “Oh my God, why didn’t you- we have to get you to a hospital now.”</p><p>“Can’t. TB2’s out of gas. Gonna take too long to fuel up. I shoulda gone straight there, I know, I should've called but I wasn't thinking right.” As he spoke, he gestured a little too much, forgetting he had the jaws on and that the sensitivity was up. </p><p>“Woah, easy easy.” John said, doing his best not to get hit. “It's alright, come on let’s go.” Virgil nodded and tried not to lean too heavily on his younger brother as they made their way up to the medbay.</p><p>When they finally made it, Virgil tensed as he released the mechanism. He breathed in deeply, relieved to have the pressure off his sides finally, and John held him up, a hand on his chest and an arm under his shoulder, guiding him to lay down on his stomach.</p><p>Virgil closed his eyes and sighed. The numbness that had been replacing the stinging in his back started to melt away. Suddenly he felt a hard pinch to his right arm. </p><p>“Ouch!” he said in protest. John was holding his shoulder down firmly. </p><p>“Sorry,” said John, looking sufficiently so, “tetanus shot.”</p><p>“I hate that.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>He closed his eyes as his brother's hands carefully cut back the fabric from his presumably filthy back. “It’s gonna need stitches Virg I don’t know, this really isn’t my thing.”</p><p>“You got the same training as me, you'll do fine.” Virgil said lightly.</p><p>“Feel sleepy?” Said John.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Well don’t, ok? I need your expertise on this.”</p><p>“Ok.” Virgil said without opening his eyes. “First step.”</p><p>“Numbing cream.” Said John.</p><p>“That stuff’s for babies.” Virgil said sleepily.</p><p>“Which you are.”</p><p>“I know you are, I said you are but what am I?” Virgil said, feeling very satisfied, at what in his pain-drunk mind was an excellent burn.</p><p>“A baby.” John said, already applying the cream. “Look do you want this to hurt or not?”</p><p>“I- wait what was the question?”</p><p>John hooked Vigil us to a drip and blood transfusion while the cream did it’s work. “Hey you remembered my blood type.” Virgil said, sounding like a drunk child.</p><p>“Ok Virgil pop quiz, do you know your own blood type?”</p><p>“C plus.”</p><p>“That’s not a blood type. Two, we’re brothers, we all have the same blood type.”</p><p>“Hey that wasn’t a question-”</p><p>“And three, this is O-negative, it's universal.” </p><p>“That’s stupid.”</p><p>“Not when we’re all O-negative Virgil.”</p><p>“Oh yeah.” John smiled at his brother, he was trying to keep him occupied but on the inside he was worried. He wasn’t well practiced in surgery, and Virgil’s back was a mess. The skin was torn and ugly, and the cut was deep, it was all sticky with sweat and dirt and dried blood.</p><p>“I’m going to clean it out with saline as best I can, ok? Do you want a mouthguard?” Virgil opened his eyes. John seemed serious. His face seemed pale despite his joking tone from earlier.</p><p>“Ok.” He said. His chocolate eyes were now wide open. John passed him a guard from the drawer. He carefully put it in, suddenly finding it a struggle to reach his hand to his mouth.</p><p>John got to work cleaning the cut. It didn’t hurt all that much, mainly just a buzzing background pain that stayed that same the whole time, though it might have had something to do with the pain meds coming down through the I.V. line. </p><p>The hard part was the sew up. Thirty three stitches in all. The hard part was Virgil kept falling asleep and then flinching himself awake, asking what was in his mouth, complaining, and then falling back asleep.</p><p>John was sweating by the end. </p><p>He sighed in relief when he finally tied the last suture. He gently dabbed a cloth over the ugly black crosses embedded in his brother’s back. Virgil stirred.</p><p>“Hey bro.” He said sleepily. “Y’alright?” </p><p>“Me?” </p><p>“Yeah you look nervous.”</p><p>“Just worried about you is all you big baby.” John said, idly checking his blood and IV drip for the third time.</p><p>“Hey be nice. I’m injured you know.” Virgil said, trying to point at his back with one hand. </p><p>“Alright fine. Just this once.” Virgil smiled, by now knees deep in morphine and drifted off again. John sent out a message to the others and then stayed up with his brother all night, making sure everything was ok.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Unconscious</h2></a>
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    <p>It was bad. That’s all he knew. That was all John had told him over the intercom. All he was willing to tell him. </p>
<p>“<em>It’s bad Scott.</em>” </p>
<p>John’s voice reverberated in Scott’s head as he flew Thunderbird One like a missile to Melbourne Hospital. He was so angry, he wanted to know what had happened but of course he couldn’t force it out of his little brother, he didn’t want to believe it - whatever it was. He didn’t want to believe anything bad could <em>ever<em> happen to Virgil, he had always been so strong and reliable, the one he never had to worry about.</em></em></p>
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    <em>His mind was spinning, drumming up every terrifying possibility under the sun. What if he wasn’t going to make it? What if they were already too late. He ground his hands into the steering console as if to <em>will<em> TB1 past top speed. She carried on, indifferent. </em></em></em>
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        <em>Gordon and Alan shifted silently in the back. They knew better than to say anything. What would they even say? Alan's lips were sore where he had been biting them. Gordon’s eyes were red. The silence in the cockpit was draining, the thoughts in their minds, drowning.</em>
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        <em>He had crashed, this much they knew. A cyclone came over while he was coming back from a rescue. He lost contact with Thunderbird Five. When the storm passed and tracking came back online his bird was nose-first in the sand, and Virgil two hundred and sixty metres east of her. That was all they knew.</em>
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            <em>Scanning the room Scott saw the whiteboard where “Virgil Tracy” was scrawled in unfamiliar handwriting. Scott pulled back the curtain. A nurse stepped back nervously and said something Scott didn’t take in. </em>
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            <em>There was his brother. Asleep. His stomach sank at the sight of him looking so - fragile, in that hospital bed. Three different tubes were down his throat, IV drip in the back of his hand, and hooked up to every machine they had in the place, looked like. </em>
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            <em>His face was pale, bruises and scratched the only colour on him now. There was a large raw looking scrape that went from his collarbone all the way up the side of his face like a road rash. His face held no expression. Scott would have rather seen him frown, just to tell he was alive. The only thing that did that was the quiet beeping of the heart monitor he was hooked up to.</em>
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            <em>Scott took a knee by his brother's bed, eyes darting all over Virgil in disbelief. He closed his mouth and swallowed the lump in his throat, then looked to the nurse who was still standing by.</em>
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            <em>“The EMTs brought him in with what we suspect is some pretty massive internal bleeding. Likely a concussion and quite a few broken bones, which is just from what we can guess. He goes to surgery in half an hour. Are you a relative? Can you sign for him?” He was holding out a clipboard with a waver attached.</em>
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            <em>“Oh,” Scott swiped a hand over his eyes quickly, standing to take the clipboard. “Of course.” </em>
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            <em>Scott looked at his brothers. Alan in particular was looking pale and scared. His eyes welled up with tears, but he turned away just as they fell, following the nurse out. </em>
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            <em>“Alan-” Scott started and then sighed. He just needed a minute, Scott knew that. He turned to Gordon. </em>
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            <em>Gordon swallowed and blinked the glassiness out of his eyes, but they didn’t leave Virgil for a moment. </em>
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            <em>“He’s going to be ok, isn’t he?” He said softly enough to break Scott’s heart.</em>
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            <em>Scott looked right into those wide brown eyes. He didn’t know. He didn’t have an answer, for any of them, and he was so <em>scared<em>. But he had to pull through for them.</em></em></em>
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                <em>“Nurse said he’s going to surgery soon,” He said looking back at Virgil. “He can handle this. I know he can.” He tried to give Gordon a reassuring smile, but he could tell Gordon saw through him. He patted him on the shoulder and went to find Alan.</em>
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                <em>Alan looked like a lost child when Scott found him. He was sitting on a visitors bench opposite the emergency ward, chin resting on his hands, trying to make himself as small and insignificant as possible - a look that wasn’t really working for him given his bright blue and red uniform.</em>
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                <em>He came up and sat next to him silently. He rubbed big circles into his back, making him sway just the slightest bit. </em>
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                <em>“Hooked up to all those machines in there keeping him alive - <em>He may as well be dead already!<em>” He sobbed, letting his face fall into his hands.</em></em></em>
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                    <em>“Hey, he is not dead, you <em>know<em> that, he’s going into surgery in twenty minutes okay? Internal bleeding, broken bones? It’s nothing he <em>and I<em>, haven’t had before. And I’m still here right?” Alan didn’t say anything.</em></em></em></em></em>
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                            <em>Scott lent forward on his elbows and just sat there for a while. If nothing more than to keep his brother from benign stared at by passers by alone. He sat and thought for a while about next steps, having a moment to clear his head. </em>
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                            <em>“I’m going to book a hotel so we can all stay close by. The surgery could be a couple hours. I’ll have Kayo bring by some clothes and things. Do you want anything from home?” Alan just shook his head, still covering his face. That was ok, he thought. <em>It’s all going to be ok.<em> He told himself.</em></em></em>
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                                <em>Virgil was in surgery for four and a half hours. In that time nobody left the hospital. Instead they all lingered around various vending machines and benches and water coolers. Sometimes talking to each other but mostly not. </em>
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                                <em>Kayo showed up with street clothes and Grandma. And John. Apparently he had made plans to descend as soon as he heard the reports.</em>
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                                <em>The whole Tracy family together, minus one. </em>
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                                <em>When Virgil came out of surgery, Grandma managed to wrangle him a private room. They were all relieved that they could finally stop clogging up the halls of the emergency ward, but the findings from the doctors didn’t give them much to celebrate.</em>
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                                <em>Two busted arteries, eight broken bones, one collapsed lung and a fractured skull. But he was alive, and that was enough. </em>
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                                <em>After being unable to convince the other siblings to go to the hotel room of their own accord, Scott eventually decided to be the leader and go first. It was around twelve and they were all exhausted. Only Grandma was able to stay overnight. </em>
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                      <em>
                        <em>
                          <em>
                            <em>
                              <em>
                                <em>Despite not wanting to leave their brother they were all grateful for the room. None of them wanted to be far from one another tonight.</em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
          <em>
            <em>
              <em>
                <em>
                  <em>
                    <em>
                      <em>
                        <em>
                          <em>
                            <em>
                              <em>
                                <em>-</em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
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<p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
          <em>
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              <em>
                <em>
                  <em>
                    <em>
                      <em>
                        <em>
                          <em>
                            <em>
                              <em>
                                <em>Scott woke up holding his breath. He curled up on his side grasping the pillow tightly gritting his teeth, trying to get the tendrils of the nightmare to let him go. He looked around for anything to reassure him that it wasn’t real, he was sure it wasn’t. At least sixty percent sure.<br/>He heaved himself upright and took a deep breath, hoping that waking himself up would help him to remember. He caught John from the corner of his eye. He was sitting in a chair by the window, lit up by the moon.</em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
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  </em>
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  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
          <em>
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              <em>
                <em>
                  <em>
                    <em>
                      <em>
                        <em>
                          <em>
                            <em>
                              <em>
                                <em>“You ok?” He said softly.</em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
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      </em>
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  </em>
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  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
          <em>
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              <em>
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                  <em>
                    <em>
                      <em>
                        <em>
                          <em>
                            <em>
                              <em>
                                <em>Scott rubbed his eyes and stood up to sit by him. “Why are you awake?”</em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
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  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
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              <em>
                <em>
                  <em>
                    <em>
                      <em>
                        <em>
                          <em>
                            <em>
                              <em>
                                <em>“Still on satellite time.” Said John. Scott nodded sleepily. “Bad dream.”</em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
          <em>
            <em>
              <em>
                <em>
                  <em>
                    <em>
                      <em>
                        <em>
                          <em>
                            <em>
                              <em>
                                <em>“Yeah.”</em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
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    <em>
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        <em>
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                              <em>
                                <em>“You wouldn’t be the first,” John said with a small smile. “Alan woke up at one, Gordon at two.” </em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
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  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
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                        <em>
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                              <em>
                                <em>Scott laughed grimly. “I guess we keep a pretty tight schedule, even in our sleep.” He looked over at the sleeping forms of the two youngest on the other side of the room. Seeing the slow rises and falls of their silhouettes was comforting, but he couldn’t help think of Virgil again. He furrowed his brow.</em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
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                  <em>
                    <em>
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                        <em>
                          <em>
                            <em>
                              <em>
                                <em>“You’re going to ask me if he’s ok.” John said. Scott looked at him.</em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p>
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      <em>
        <em>
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                                <em>He pulled up the hologram monitor on his wrist controller from the windowsill. There was Virgil, sleeping heavily in his hospital bed, big chest heaving slowly up and down. The heart monitor beside his bed running steadily. Grandma sat in the chair beside his bed with her arms folded and her legs kicked out in front of her, fast asleep. Scott smiled. The final thread of his nightmare finally cut, he sighed. </em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
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  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
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              <em>
                <em>
                  <em>
                    <em>
                      <em>
                        <em>
                          <em>
                            <em>
                              <em>
                                <em>“Thanks John.”</em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
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                <em>
                  <em>
                    <em>
                      <em>
                        <em>
                          <em>
                            <em>
                              <em>
                                <em>“Like I said you weren’t the first.” John said with a smile.</em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
          <em>
            <em>
              <em>
                <em>
                  <em>
                    <em>
                      <em>
                        <em>
                          <em>
                            <em>
                              <em>
                                <em>“Are you alright John? You’ve been quiet, and I might be half asleep but I’m pretty sure “satellite time” isn’t a thing.”</em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
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        </em>
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    </em>
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                              <em>
                                <em>John gave a soft look to the ground. “I guess it’s just scary not being able to be everywhere at once. Up in Five I can keep an eye on all of you, but I can’t do anything, down here doesn’t seem much different.” There was a long silence. “I think if any of us said we were fine we’d be lying. But my gut tells me he’ll be ok.” </em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
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                <em>
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                    <em>
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                          <em>
                            <em>
                              <em>
                                <em>“Your gut?” Scott said with a laugh. It sounded funny coming from his analytical little brother, who trusted in fact and data. </em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
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    <em>
      <em>
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                  <em>
                    <em>
                      <em>
                        <em>
                          <em>
                            <em>
                              <em>
                                <em>“Come on-” John started</em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
          <em>
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              <em>
                <em>
                  <em>
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                      <em>
                        <em>
                          <em>
                            <em>
                              <em>
                                <em>“No, no, please, John- if <em>your gut<em> is telling you <em>anything<em> I’m here to listen.” He laughed, trying not to wake the boys. “It’s good to hear, really.” He placed a hand on John’s shoulder reassuringly.</em></em></em></em></em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
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<p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
          <em>
            <em>
              <em>
                <em>
                  <em>
                    <em>
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                        <em>
                          <em>
                            <em>
                              <em>
                                <em>
                                  <em>
                                    <em>
                                      <em>
                                        <em>“You should get some sleep though.” John opened his mouth to argue. “No, no, come on. we’ll take shifts.” He said, helping John up. </em>
                                      </em>
                                    </em>
                                  </em>
                                </em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
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    <em>
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                                      <em>
                                        <em>John stood still for a moment. Scott thought he was about to try for an argument again, instead he turned and gave Scott a hug. Scott smiled warmly. John hugs were a rare and special thing, and they were always welcome. </em>
                                      </em>
                                    </em>
                                  </em>
                                </em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
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  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
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                        <em>
                          <em>
                            <em>
                              <em>
                                <em>
                                  <em>
                                    <em>
                                      <em>
                                        <em>“Good night Scott. Thanks.” He said into his shoulder.</em>
                                      </em>
                                    </em>
                                  </em>
                                </em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
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<p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
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                        <em>
                          <em>
                            <em>
                              <em>
                                <em>
                                  <em>
                                    <em>
                                      <em>
                                        <em>“Good night Johnny.”</em>
                                      </em>
                                    </em>
                                  </em>
                                </em>
                              </em>
                            </em>
                          </em>
                        </em>
                      </em>
                    </em>
                  </em>
                </em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry this one if kind of unfinished but i've been working on it for too long and i got writers block so maybe i'll have to post a part 2 a little later. I promise Virgil is fine though &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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